


Miss Me?

by codewc



Series: Wedding Blues [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Confrontation, Confused as fuck John, Dialogue Heavy, Lovestruck Jim, M/M, Mary Morstan is Sebastian Moran, gifts for john, poor mary, sequel to Love Jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7090219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codewc/pseuds/codewc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John learns more about the person he's married to than he'd like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss Me?

Jim Moriarty.

It's on everyone's tongue.

Sherlock won't say it. Mary will never say it. John doesn't know what holds him back to say it. 

"Is everyone I ever met a psychopath?"

 

They just sit there, listening to Mary explaining herself. Birdy? Birdy sits quietly. John doesn't even notice she's there. 

"Oh, look at you. You should've got married."

Sherlock can practically taste the layers under that and swallows it down. He can't say it.

 

"You did see that."

Sherlock tenses. John goes rigid. Mary breaks the ice. 

"And you married me."

It flashes in front of Sherlock: Jim in a wedding dress, pouring beer on himself, crying for John.

"Because he's right.  It's what you like."

John can feel the smell of roses hit him. Can feel silk on his fingertips.

It lingers there between all of three of them. Even Mary, despite her bite, couldn't say it. 

Jim Moriarty. 

 

 When the ambulance came to take Sherlock, he quickly clung to John and made sure to hold his attention. 

"Magnussen is all that matters now. You can trust Mary. She saved my life."

_Jim Moriarty can protect you._

"She shot you."

_He strapped me to a bomb._

"Mixed messages, I can grant you that."

_"I'm ever so changeable!"_

When John looks at Mary, he's not so sure who sat in that chair anymore.

* * *

 

A new bouquet of flowers. _It'll be okay, John. Promise. Love, Jim xxx_

 

Three jars of jam.  _I wasn't sure which one you liked right now. You never seem to have a favorite, do you, John? Love, Jim xxx_

 

A pair of socks (this one made John snort. Sherlock didn't get it.)  _It's getting colder these days. Hope they're the right size. Love, Jim xxx_

 

Even more chocolates.  _It's perfect for emotional turmoil, I'm told. Love, Jim xxx_

 

 

And, finally, a card. Heart shaped, naturally. Red trimming. (Sherlock snorted at this one, but John didn't find it funny. His stomach hurt.)

_Roses are red, Violets are blue, Oh John Watson, I'm married to you. Love, Jim xxx_

* * *

 

 

 

 Mycroft was terribly concerned that he was only called in at this stage. John only listened once Mycroft handed him what he wanted to know.

There it was, on paper, and definitely not the only copy: 

John Watson and Jim Moriarty are married.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, John kicks the table. He catches the pot when it topples over. Sherlock, staring at the stunned John holding the pot, didn't comment. John was grateful for that. 

* * *

 

 

It's weeks later and John Watson can barely breathe. Jim Moriarty was just _standing_ there, in his living room, like standing in his living room was the most natural thing in the world. 

"What do you want?" John blurts and feels just a slight pang when Jim's smile drops. Jim paints another smile, though, and stuffs his hands in his pockets. John only now realizes that he's wearing a suit. Of course, he's wearing a bloody suit. "Just looking for a reply, Johnny."

"You never gave me your address." Why did he say that? _Why did he say that?_

"That's why I'm here, Johnny. Did you like the jam?" John tried to find the fact that Jim Moriarty, the consulting criminal, asking him about jam wasn't the funniest thing.  

"Moriarty, please."

Jim shifts, steps over to John in a manner that John Watson would call careful - timid, maybe. "John,"his voice is soft. John tried not to think about how close he was now. Tried not to think about how he's married to this man. "You're going to forgive her, aren't you?"

John shoots a glare up at Jim, not caring about the goddamn suit and those perfect teeth. "What?"

Is this why he was here? "You mean Mary?"

There's an irritated itch in Jim's expression. "You're still calling her that? You didn't read it then,"Jim sighs, but there's a glance to the floor that John thinks resembles something of awe. "You wouldn't, would you? Oh, Johnny." He looks John in the eye again and John is for the first time in this encounter intimidated. He hoped that despite all of Jim's genius, he couldn't deduce John at this moment. "You're going to take her back."

"Yes,"John tries to say, his voice under a breath, " I am. She's my wife."

There's a definite hurt in Jim's face now. " You'll forgive her but you won't forgive me?"

John can't figure out what made him snap them. He's not some genius, dammit. "Why would I forgive you? You're a criminal, you've killed people-"

"- so has she." 

John stops, blames it on something that's stuck in his throat. "She killed people. Lots of people. I've indirectly killed people. Lots of people. We both do it for business. Why is she so different? Is it because she's ' _trying to change_ '? Is it because she _lied_ to you?" John feels a cool wash over him.

He doesn't know how, but Jim steps even closer, his hot breath on John's ear. "Say what you want, Johnny. But at least I've been honest about it." 

John stays still when Jim steps away and says goodbye ("Bye, bye Johnny. Love you.") and watches Jim walk out of 221B like it was the most normal thing in the world. Out of all of that, only one thing he bothered to repeat to Sherlock hours later was;

Jim didn't even mention their marriage once.

* * *

 

"Please, Mycroft, can't you change it?"

"And provoke Jim Moriarty? No, thank you."

* * *

 

"Have you read it?"

_You wouldn't, would you? Oh, Johnny._

"These are prepared words, Mary." 

_John stops, blames it on something that's stuck in his throat._

"The problems of your past are your business. The problems of your future are my privilege." 

_You'll forgive her but you won't forgive me?_

 "You don't even know my name."

_But at least I've been honest about it._

And John holds her. Holds her tight and laughs into her neck like their whole world didn't just shatter around them. Like his wife isn't just some stranger now. Like their marriage isn't real in every sense and every way. 

And when Mary is holding him tight and he can feel the baby bump, he feels a disgust in himself when he remembers Jim's hot breath on his ear. 

_Bye, bye, Johnny. Love you._

* * *

 

"But he was dead. You told me he was dead. Moriarty."

An insistence in her voice, John looks passed her. His chest aches. "Absolutely. Blew his own brains out."  

"So how can he be back?" 

John remembers Jim's fake smile. His nervous walk toward John. His pained expression when John brought up Mary. 

The crumpled up piece of paper he found in his jacket weeks later that had Jim's phone, email and address on it.

_Did you miss me? Love, Jim xxx_

 

 


End file.
